Sunflower

Dedicated to our very own -- "Serah Jha". Forgive me for my poetic liberties and inadequacies. This was long due, Serah..Here it goes.

Eyes, a thin line of seven day old mascara persists.
Eyes, which haven't slept for days and months.
Eyes, which are glued to a glass screen.
Which is not an actual glass screen
But a screen with possibilities, hope
Breeding hope, imbibing hope
Instilling hope and reinvigorating hope.

She writes on a small desk
And sits on a wooden chair
Wobbly in its third leg
So that you can fold a parchment beneath it
To make it steady.
Not that she needs ,
Written parchments to be steady.

A cup of half filled tea,
A lamp with a fluorescent glow.
A lamp which has no off switch,
Someone forgot to put it there.
A yellow lizard crawls on the ceiling and observes her
Between the flies, it devours for breakfast and lunch.
"Tick. Tick. Tick", it says.
The old wall clock agrees.

The sun is shy.
He hasn't met her for months now,
But the sun keeps an eye on her door.
When she would finally come out,
He would put a brave face and meet her.
Tell her he missed her and why it rained so heavily
In the last six months.

Words, they seek her every day,
So she writes.
But she is not a writer.
She is a connoisseur of ideas mostly white
Which floats as clouds in your sky.
Hers too.

Her words sometimes wails and scathes,
Against fortresses of disbelief,
Hate and mistrust,
Judgments and Dogmas.
"Kafir", they call her
But she,
She says nothing,
She does nothing,
She paints the walls inside her room
With yellow, ochre and blue
And spreads words.

She messes us up with infectious hope
An alive spirit, Ceaseless.
Her Kalashnikov fires words
And only words.
Words like bullets that pierce my soul
and surgeons can't do a thing.
It also rips apart those others
Whose merry and tonic is elsewhere
In restless drains of garbage and sewage water.

Her words leaves pages and gets blown away
And settles as fine sands unto rivers
Meandering through uncompromising lands
Incising deep valleys and Etching archetypes.
Revisit them on drier times
As a tourist.
Watch the carvings, intricate meshes, framework.
Appreciate, when it is shallow and sly.

Now she is busy,
Making a garden inside her room.
She sows seeds, waters plants and smells soils everyday
African Daisy, California Poppy , Chinese Houses
Desert Marigold, Evening Primrose and Forget Me Not
Iceland Poppy, Indian Blanket, Mexican Hat
New England Aster, Siberian Blueflower and Texas Blue bonnet.
All her flowers are wild and needs full sun to grow.
But when they do
They will grow through her ceilings and narrow walls
Break them apart
And face the sun
And she will meet him again.

The sun would look at her sulky, beautiful face
And sigh.
Rainfall will cease in India, a little while from then on
You can finally enjoy a sunny winter.



© Nothing Personal. January 02, 2011.

Author's Note

Though the poem was conceived by my imagination, it is partly based on my discourses with Serah, whom I got to know through this platform. This poem is for her, and for all people out there who even in their darkest of hours and deepest of troubles instills and inspires hopes and ideas to us , especially to idiots like me.

I don't want to explain my poems but I need to mention the last but one para was a dedication to a real, stupendous effort undertaken by Serah. I know there are others who have helped and contributed and without it , this would not be possible. I apologize to you all but I thank you with my sincerest intentions for everything.

Reviews

[em]

- my god!! - i'm moved to tears - i know serah'll be too - in fact - i'm pretty sure - she is - right at this moment - or she will - when i call and read this out to her - over the phone - this is such a warm and delicate and exquisite dedication - to a warm, delicate and exquisite person - she really does - epitomize - courage and conviction - love and dedication - resilience and strength - passion and poetry - for me - and for so many others - she moves people - and inspires them - to progress - dream - write - learn - think - evolve - unselfishly and passionately - and i know - that i have way too much to thank her for -
- with the anthology - its all coming together - and she binds it together - she thought of it - she dreamed it - she's made it come to life - she is - in spirit - in every word that's there - and she's taking poets and poetry to the world - and the world - to poets and poetry -
- thank you - for your amazing dedication - and thank you - serah jha - for being -

[FallenHeroXx]

This is an epic poem. I loved every single line of it. Hell, my friend. Keep crying :D


A Fallen Hero

[absolutefolie]

So much detail, I've never seen a poem like this before, but wow. This is amazing. It had me gripped right from the start. Well done, keep writing x

[Zeitgeist Manifesto]

Wow..What an inspiration.

[paul]

beautiful. what a fantastic story. and concept.

[Dushyant Thadani]

I just haven't seen many descriptive works such as this one, which describes everything in such detail, which many many people have tried and failed in my short experience as a writer. Simply moved by the last paragraph, but the whole poem slowly progressed to it, and made it this beautiful. Great work.

[Brian W. Hastings]

Just wow. That is all I can say. I want to write more praise. I want to pick out the parts that are more meaningful to me as a reader but this whole thing is so equally strong; all I can say is just wow.

[Ed Hart]

what flower wouldn't grow beneath the radiance of such sunshine...i had to go see who wrote these words before i read them, and am pleased the they pass through the hands of well-earned knowledge...which makes your song of praise worthy, so that a soul that understands transformation, shines light on the process glowing and growing in another...how splendid for you both

[Geralyn Miller]

Words, like sweet rain on parched earth; words. with the power to help the wounded heart; words with the strength to overthrow tyranny. Words have such power to change the world and words live on long after the demise of the writer.
Your words are such as these.

[G. K. Bostic]

I don't have words....a terrible thing for a writer to say....but this is so touching, so beautiful, magnificent. I don't know Serah, but if she is the inspiration for such stirring words and emotion, I hope I will soon get to know her. She must be very special. I do know this, your writing is very special as is your heart!
"Words like bullets that pierce my soul
and surgeons can't do a thing." I usually like to quote some of my favorite lines from the poems I review and started to do so with these two lines that struck me deeply. Then I realized, I would have to cut and paste the whole poem for it is in totality a beautiful, beautiful piece. Superb! Bravo!!

[.]

. i can't begin to express how overwhelmed i am ... when em read your words out to me ... i was stunned ... my heart stopped beating for a while ... and then ... after i put down the phone ... i wept and i wept and i wept ... i don't know for how long ... and then i slept for some time ... a very peaceful sleep ... i woke up and rushed to your words ... and as my tears flow again right now ... and my fingers type ... i am trying to find the words to thank you ... for understanding me ... in each and every word ... and in each and every line ... in each and every thought ... and in each and every moment ... when our paths crossed ... and for believing in each and every thing that i stand for ... and empowering me all along ... with love, respect and recognition that healed my heart ... and today ... with this special surprise ... which no eyes ... no words ... no tears ... and no heart could possibly describe ... you have freed me from so much pain ... and given me so much hope ... that i won't stop ... if only to honour these words ... that you've given me for life ... i won't stop till there is a sunny winter in india ... no matter what happens ... and i hope and i wish and i pray ... that your words reach the hearts of all like me ... and free them from pain and lead them towards miracles ... like the anthology ... and like this poem ... because respect is the only magic potion that can heal those who suffer humiliation ... i thank you with all my heart for so much respect ... and i hope and i wish and i pray ... that this respect reaches the heart of every indian ... as well as every global citizen ... and for you, the magician who can heal with magic potion ... i hope and i wish and i pray for more magic in your magic wand ... for you don't have a pen to write poetry with ... you have a magic wand ... that speaks in magical spells of consciousness and love ... all my love to you, NP ... for sending so much sunshine my way ... from so far away ... to warm my life ... and bless my dreams ... like you are a precious near and dear one ... i am indebted ... and in time ... india will be too ... followed closely by the entire universe ... i shall relentlessly go on ... and try my best to never let you down ... thank you, my friend ... i thank the universe in all humility for your presence in the universe ...

bayaan karnaa is dil ka haal mushkil hai, mere dost
tu jo malham hai, uski dastaan likhnein vaali siyaahi abhi bani kahaan hai

bayoon karna teri fitrat ko namumkin hai, mere dost
teri fitrat to khuda aur uske bandon se bhi pare hai

jo unjaan hain unke liye alfaaz nahin mere paas, mere dost
tu vo maseeha hai jiski aavaaz se aaj maayoos bhi mash-hoor hain